Time to Come Clean

Time to Come CleanBy Georgia Osten
We all have faults, some we hate to admit, but there comes a time when you just have to come clean with it. One of my major faults is a lead foot! I take a weekly trip into town usually on a Thursday. My trip takes me to Southeast Houston because that’s where I’m most comfortable these days, I know my way around town. Not to mention, that’s where the majority of my family lives these days.

It was earlier in November and I had just finished my rounds, which usually includes Kroger, WalMart, maybe Hobby Lobby and maybe HEB. I tend to wear myself out physically and mentally, so by the time I’m ready to head home, I get in a hurry, I can’t wait to be home. Heading South on I-45 toward Galveston, I may drive a little over the speed limit. I get in a zone and my foot leaves my head and reason-ability. Boom, then it happens! All of a sudden the State Trooper is shooting me with the darn gun and I tend to immediately slow down, I mean brakes and everything, as I pull over into the middle lane, as he jumps in his car, lights flashing and he’s after me!

I begin to think what I’m going to say, can I start to cry? Nope, it’s not in me. He’s right behind me, and I proceed to pull over to the side of the road. He doesn’t even ask why I might be going so fast, he doesn’t even scold me, just takes my driver’s license and proof of insurance, goes back to his car to write the ticket and returns to my car telling me I have until November 30th, when I need to appear in court. When I get home, tail between my legs, I admit to my husband.

Exactly two weeks later, I’m on the same path, I’d been all the way to Sugar Land, but returned back to my stomping grounds to do my shopping. I used my cruise control all the way to and from Sugar Land. I was using it again on the way home, when my cell phone rang. As I was talking to my friend, it was a heated conversation about something that had been bugging me, my foot hit the gas pedal and Off I Went! Same location, I-45 and about Texas City. I had missed my exit for Sam’s for gas, and there he was! This time, it was local Texas City Police, gunned me, clocked me at only 80 in a 65. There we go over to the side of the road. He wrote up my ticket much quicker than the State Patrol guy, I’ll give him that. Two tickets, two weeks and two hours apart.

I’m mortified, I can’t tell my husband, I go about a week, waking up in the wee hours of the morning, worrying how I’m going to juggle two tickets, how do I go without telling my husband, knowing he’ll wonder why our insurance went up. I confessed to the kids, looking for a little consolation. “Mom, you’re a little old lady, you’re not supposed to be speeding, what will your Grandkids think?”

Needless to say, I woke up at 5am the other morning, and whistled (that’s what we do – whistle) for him to come back to bed. Therein, I confessed. I began with “I have something to tell you (long pause).” He had no idea…so by the time, I spilled, I don’t know, maybe he was glad it was only a speeding ticket.

Confession – It’s a powerful thing!

GO’s Sand Bucket is only one beach bum’s journal of life at the beach, probably something each of you can relate to. Please feel free to email me with your thoughts, visions and/or feelings of just exactly what the beach means to you. Email: rubyreddog4030@yahoo.com

[12-4-2017]

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